


You've Been Dying To Hear

by Pterodactyl



Series: Bowling Alley 'Verse [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4271235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pterodactyl/pseuds/Pterodactyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kind of a follow-up from I've Been Dying To Tell You (which should probably be read first), but mostly written for klaineweek2013’s first prompt: early klaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Been Dying To Hear

“Cooper!”

Blaine groans, stuck on his back on his bed with his shorts halfway up his legs, face flaming with embarrassment. Cooper continues babbling on about  _ease of access_  and winking a lot as he untangles the hem from Blaine’s cast and pats him on the thigh. “All done, baby bro!”

Blaine worms the shorts up over his hips and sits up, twisting to hook his braces over his shoulder and wincing a little as the waistband presses into a bruise on his hip. Cooper eyes him, arching an eyebrow. “You look like a boy scout.”

“Go away,” Blaine scowls, hopping to his feet and crutching across his room to the mirror. His tan shorts end just before the blue cast on his right leg, hooked into his braces, and his light blue button-up polo tucks neatly into his shorts. Over the top goes a grey cardigan and a red bowtie.

“Very dapper,” Cooper grins, and then drops a fedora onto Blaine’s neatly styled hair.

“Too much,” Blaine says, tossing it back onto the bed and carefully rearranging his hair, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants.

“It’s six fifty!” his mother calls up the stairs, “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“Mama, I’m fine,” Blaine calls, blushing, fumbling to do up the buttons of his cardigan as she pokes her head it, the jetlag from her Caribbean cruise showing through as she yawns. “Oh, sweetie, just look at you!” she trills, and before Blaine can wipe the smile from his face she snaps a photo.

“Mama!”

“All grown up,” she says, her eyes wet, “Oh, baby, I wish you didn’t have that stupid cast.”

“I’m fine, Mama,” he smiles, digging his hands into his pockets, “I don’t mind.”

She smiles and cups his face, brushing her fingers over the bruise uncovered by his hair. “Do you want me to get you some concealer? We’re nearly the same skin tone, aren’t we?”

“It’s  _okay_ , Mama,” he pulls her hands gently away, “I’m okay, I promise. What’s the time?”

“Nearly seven,” Cooper calls, and Blaine grabs his crutches. “Okay, I gotta go. Wish me luck!”

“Oh! Hold on,” she ushers him towards the stairs and then disappears into her room, emerging once he’s made it down to the hallway.

“Mama, you didn’t have to –“

“Oh, shush,” she presses the rose from the bushes outside into his hand and grins, “I even stripped the thorns. Go on, sweetie, have fun!”

Just as she drags Cooper into the lounge, the doorbell goes and Blaine takes a deep breath and grabs his coat, slinging it over his arm as he hobbles to the door and pulls it open.

“Hi!” Kurt says, his cheeks flushed red and eyes clear blue, “I’m early, I just,” he shrugs, “It’s kind of hard to not be when you live next door.”

“Um,” Blaine thrusts out the rose, “I got. You. This. Um.”

“Oh!” Kurt’s face lights up and he grins, “Thank you, that’s so sweet.” Lifting the flower to his nose, he sniffs delicately and Blaine does a mental fist-pump.  _Step one complete._  After their impromptu coffee date the day before, Blaine had picked up a few key things about Kurt. Namely, he was a big fan of romance.

Blaine finds himself grinning stupidly. Kurt shifts a little. “So… shall we… go?”

Blaine blinks. “Oh! Sure, yeah, let me just –“ he leans to place his crutches against the wall and overbalances, watching the wall rush up to meet him with a yelp until hands grab his waist and pull him back up.

“You okay?” Kurt asks, releasing him and holding his hands in the air for a moment before tucking them into the pockets of his mustard-yellow pants.

“Yeah,” Blaine feels blood rush to his cheeks, “Thank you, I just – balance is off,” he waves a hand and then tucks his arms into his coat quickly, feeling as if his cheeks are giving off enough heat to warm a house.

“So, is Breadstix still okay?” Kurt asks as Blaine shuts his front door and pockets the keys. “It sounds great,” he grins, and then pauses when Kurt offers his arm. “I… my crutch, I, sorry –“

“Oh!” Kurt’s cheeks go pink, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” he slaps a palm to his forehead, “I’m such an idiot.”

“It’s okay,” Blaine ducks his head, Kurt  _offered Blaine his arm like he was someone special_ , “I don’t mind, I just –“ he gestures to his cast, “It’s a pain.”

“You’ll have to let me sign it,” Kurt grins, his eyes twinkling, and Blaine grins back, unsure what to say but wanting so desperately to convey his joy at the idea. “That would be lawsome. Awesome! No, I mean – lovely, I mean –“

Kurt laughs, throwing his head back, and Blaine goes crimson, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please pretend I didn’t just say that.”

“It was cute,” Kurt squeezes his arm and then, mercifully, changes the subject, “I thought we might take my car? It has more space for your cast, and I don’t want. Um. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Blaine feels his chest ache with joy. “I – yeah, that sounds good.”

Kurt opens the door for him and grabs his elbow to help him in, shutting the door behind him with a little flourish and a bow.

The drive is a little awkward, but then Kurt turns on the radio and Blaine can’t help it, he starts talking about music and then Kurt joins in and they spend a blissful ten minutes chatting about Lady Gaga and Broadway, and Blaine lets slip his aspiration to play Marius in Les Miserables one day. Kurt’s eyes go wide and he blurts “You sing?” as they draw up to Breadstix and Blaine withdraws back into his shell, blushing and muttering “I’ll probably be a doctor, anyway, it’s a stupid idea.”

“It’s not stupid,” Kurt says softly as he turns off the engine, and he holds Blaine’s gaze until Blaine looks away, his cheeks burning.

Breadstix is packed and without a reservation they’re shepherded off to the seat by the fire door, which seems fine until Kurt says “Blaine, you’re shivering.”

Blaine shudders and rubs his hands over his forearms. “I’m fine, it’s just a bit chilly. I probably shouldn’t have worn shorts, but you know. I didn’t want to ruin a good pair of pants.”

Kurt bites his lip and then leans behind him, grabbing his long, thick coat and then, with a glance up through his eyelashes, throwing it over Blaine’s lap. The coat is warmed from where Kurt’s back had been resting against it and Blaine ducks his head and grins, touching Kurt’s wrist. “Thank you. You didn’t…”

Kurt smiles at him. “I’m wearing wool, Blaine. I’ll be fine.”

Something changes then, and the conversation flows easier. Blaine finds himself laughing harder than he has in a long time at Kurt’s sharp wit, and even drawing a few chuckles from Kurt. At one point Kurt grabs Blaine’s hand during a rant about the failing fashion statement of armwarmers and doesn’t let go. Blaine’s palm must be sweaty and gross but each time he glances down at their joined hands and then looks up again Kurt is watching him with a soft smile, his eyes warm.

 _I can’t believe this is happening_ , he thinks, and Kurt tilts his head. “I meant to ask you, about your leg. How’d it happen?”

“Oh, I was in an accident,” he shakes his head, “I got, um, I got hit by a car on my way home from the bowling alley. It was my fault,” he adds hastily at Kurt’s expression, “I had my earbuds in.”

“Did the car stop?” Kurt asks, sounding  _genuinely_  concerned, and Blaine shakes his head. “But I’m fine! Seriously, I just –“

“Blaine, that’s a hit and run –“

“Kurt,” Blaine says, squeezing his hand, “I don’t even want to press charges. It’s my fault, anyway.”

Kurt slumps back in his seat, pulling his hand away, and Blaine follows it, missing the slight contact. When it becomes clear Kurt isn’t going to take his hand again, he withdraws it awkwardly, resting it on his lap. “I’m sorry,” he says helplessly, “I just…”

“No, no, don’t apologise,” Kurt sits up again, and Blaine puts his hand on the table hopefully, “I just – I feel bad. If I hadn’t been in the way when you turned, you wouldn’t have got upset and then –“

“Kurt, please don’t blame yourself,” Blaine fumbles for his hand before Kurt can pull it away, “It isn’t your fault, I don’t – I don’t…” he trails off, unable to express how he feels, but Kurt seems to get it. “So, shall we just say it was nobody’s fault and move to lighter topics?” he asks, and Blaine grins. “Yes. Yes, that sounds great.”

Somehow, they get onto the topic of fashion again and over slices of cheesecake Blaine discovers Kurt wants to be a fashion designer.

“I thought about Broadway for a little while,” he admits, “But I played Riff Raff when we put on a performance of Rocky Horror this year, which was – you know, fun, but then there’s  _fashion_ , and as much as I love singing and performing…” he trails off. “I don’t know. I want to keep my options open.”

“You should,” Blaine urges, “I think you’d be great as both. You could lead a double life!”

Kurt laughs and shakes his head. “I wish. However, cool that would be…”

“It would be super cool,” Blaine says seriously, and Kurt chuckles and steals a bite of Blaine’s cheesecake.

“Hey!” Blaine knocks the slice off Kurt’s fork and scoops it into his own quickly, “Get your own!”

“But I ate my own,” Kurt says, fixing him with wide, sad eyes, and Blaine sighs, pushing his plate forwards a little. “Fine, guilt me.”

Kurt grins and slices the remaining cheesecake neatly in half, pushing one half onto his plate and leaving the other on Blaine’s. “Fair?”

“Fair,” Blaine says, with an exaggerated eye roll, and Kurt laughs. “So, Blaine Anderson, where do you go to school? I’ve never seen you out and about around here.”

“Oh, I go to Dalton,” Blaine jerks his head in the vague direction of somewhere, “Up in Westerville.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt’s eyes take on a wistful look, “I was going to go there, but then it fell through.”

“Why?” Blaine leans forwards, “It’s a  _great_  school, the Warblers –“

“No, I know, I just,” he shrugs, “Not enough money. Tuition is steep over there.”

“Oh,” Blaine now feels stupid and awkward, he hadn’t even  _thought_  about that, “Right, yeah, of course. Why were you planning on going?”

Kurt snorts. “McKinley is a hellhole if you have a decent sense of fashion, or are in Glee, or you’re gay. Unfortunately, I’m all three.”

“Well,” Blaine thinks, “I’m certainly glad for two of those.”

Kurt blinks.

“I mean, being gay is debatable, but I’d never date a man who isn’t in a Glee club,” Blaine shrugs and Kurt laughs, throwing his head back. “Oh, Blaine, I think we’re going to get along great,” he chuckles, and Blaine grins like an idiot.

Kurt insists on paying – “I asked  _you_ , Blaine, next time you can pay,” and Blaine forgets to argue because Kurt said  _next time_  which implies a second date which means Kurt  _likes_  him and that kind of boggles his mind for a little while, so he just sits with a dreamy grin on his face as Kurt leaves a tip for the waitress and sweeps his coat off Blaine’s legs.

Outside is cold and they hurry to Kurt’s car, continuing their conversation about whether Wicked is better than Les Mis, which Blaine is almost convinced he will lose. By the time he concedes defeat, they’ve drawn up outside their houses, and his heart sinks as he realises it’s the end of the date.

“So,” Blaine says slowly, “Um, I –“

“Can I get your number?” Kurt asks in a rush, “I didn’t ask for it yesterday, and…”

“Of course!” Blaine scrambles for his phone and they swap, chuckling nervously when their fingers bump and tangle. With shaking hands, Blaine plugs his number and name in, pausing a moment before typing a smiley face after his last name. Kurt catches his hand and squeezes it as they swap back, and then opens the door and steps out, hurrying around to open Blaine’s door for him. Blaine thanks him and swings himself out, hopping on the spot as he grabs his crutches and steadies himself.

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” Kurt says seriously as he walks Blaine up to his house, “And if you were willing, I would very much like to make this a thing that happened often.”

“So, like, dating?” Blaine asks nervously, hoping he hasn’t got the wrong end of the stick. Kurt laughs, reaching out to touch Blaine’s wrist lightly. “Yes, dating, you dummy.”

Blaine grins. “Well then, I would very much like that too, Kurt.”

“Great,” Kurt says, “I guess this is where we say goodnight, then?”

“I guess so,” Blaine says, and his mouth turns down a little at the corners, no matter how hard he tries to stop it. Kurt bites his lip and then leans in and kisses him, light and fleeting and Blaine is pretty sure his knees go very weak,  _oh gosh he just got his first real kiss oh gosh._

“I’ll see you soon, Blaine,” Kurt says, and then he turns and trots down the steps and across Blaine’s driveway to his house.

Blaine lets himself in very quickly so he can bury his face in the coats hung up by the door and muffle a squeal of joy.

Before he can toe off his shoes (or calm down enough to think about getting his shoes off) his phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, curious.

**From: Kurt :)  
** **Sleep well, Blaine :D xx**

_Oh my gosh, he texted me kisses. Actual kisses!_

**To: Kurt :)  
** **You too, Kurt :) xx**


End file.
